Beneath the Ruins
by FoxFace Zero
Summary: Amy, Dan and Nellie set out for the mountains of Peru in their search for the 39 clues. Their path, however, is treacherous and forces them to depend on an unreliable alliance for their survival. Does a budding romance even stand a chance? Ian/Amy
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own 39 Clues or any of its characters.

*=*=*Chapter 1*=*=*

**Cuzco, Peru**

*=*=*

There are times when being a kid was probably about the suckiest thing that could ever happen to you. To Dan Cahill, today was just another example of that.

They had landed in Peru only two short days ago after a rough 37-hour flight from Indonesia, although, to be fair, it hadn't been a continuous 37 hours. Due to a serious lack of funding, Nellie had been forced to book their plane tickets with a layover in just about every city in the Americas in order to save on costs. Dan had eaten enough airplane food to last him the rest of his natural life.

"This doesn't look good," he heard Amy say, and followed her gaze to the ticket booth behind him.

At the moment, their au pair was currently yelling at the person behind the desk, stabbing an enraged finger into the glass that separated the two of them. Neither Dan nor Amy spoke a word of Spanish, but they both concluded that that was probably not the international symbol for 'thank you very much for the train passes.'

"I _told_ you no one would believe that you're seventeen," he grumbled to her accusingly, turning his back on the entire scene.

She frowned at him, "Me? You're the one who looks like an eight-year-old."

That was why being a kid just didn't pay off. Apparently you couldn't get onto a Peruvian train unless you were accompanied by a legal guardian or you were over sixteen and could sign a waiver. And in Dan and Amy's case, neither of those were true.

They'd discovered this yesterday when Nellie had tried to buy them tickets onto the Incan Trail Rail. The clerk had staunchly refused them passage unless they could prove the children's age. She had been red-faced by the end, arguing that she was as good as family to them and that they were being denied a basic human right (though what that right actually was, Amy didn't even know). The conversation had ended when the man had threatened to call the police and their pseudo-guardian was forced to back off.

Today, there was a different clerk and Nellie was trying it again, without much more success, it seemed. She had finished with him and was stomping back over to where Amy and Dan sat waiting for her. Judging from the look on her face, she wasn't bearing any good news.

"They didn't believe you?" Amy asked.

"Oh no, he believed you were old enough," she huffed angrily tossing her purse onto the bench they were sitting on, "I had to offer him a bribe, but he would have given it to us."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's nine hundred dollars!" Nellie cried throwing her hands in the air in frustration, "For _one_ pass! That's almost three thousand dollars for all of us!"

"What?! But—"

"I couldn't even afford one, let alone three!" she was ranting now, "That's criminal! Who do they think they are?"

"Maybe there's another rail company…" Amy suggested trying to see a way around the problem.

"Not a cheaper one," she shook her head vehemently, "They've got to make it as difficult as possible, don't they! And for what? A bunch of old ruins? There are plenty around here that we don't have to pay three thousand dollars to go see."

"But none except that Pikachu one have our next clue," Dan replied, equally annoyed that, once again, money constraints were getting in the way of their progress.

"It's Machu _Picchu_," Amy corrected with a cringe.

"Whatever," he said waving it off, "We still have to get there."

"The guidebook says that a lot of people walk the Inca Trail and that doesn't cost anything," She continued, glancing between her brother and Nellie trying to gauge their reactions.

The au pair made a doubtful face and Dan groaned at her, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Sure, and while we spend weeks doing that, the Cobras or the Holts or Irina will have cleaned the place out and moved onto the next clue."

Nellie seemed to agree with him, "I can't exactly see those two prissy kids hoofing it all the way up there."

"I don't think they'll get very far," Amy answered with a knowing smile, "They may know they need to go to the Lost City, but they're missing something important…"

As she spoke, she began to rifle around in her knapsack for something. At last, her fingers brushed granite and she pulled what she sought from the bag, holding it up to remind them of their distinct advantage.

In her palm sat a granite bowl rimmed at the top in gold. A thin spike rose out of the very centre of the basin and came to a sharp point. Dan had mistaken it for a jelly mould when they had first found it back in Jakarta, though what it actually was, neither Amy nor Nellie knew. But a lot of their clues were like that in this race; they made no sense now, but given the right prompt, they were easy to unravel.

"Oh yeah," Dan said, his eyes sparking to life once more, "P.A. I forgot about that."

Amy nodded and turned over the small bowl, spike down. There was a strange piece of metal welded into the bottom that bore the inscription:

'_For P.A.,_

_For knowledge and direction are owed to the youth._

_And all may be found beneath the Lost City.''_

*=*=*

**Jakarta, Indonesia**

**One week earlier…**

*=*=*

Jakarta was a beautiful city that seemed to have been built in the middle of a rainforest. It might have been preferable to the concrete jungles back in America, but then again, you didn't have to worry about wild animals dropping into your sunroof from the hanging branches above the roads. On second thought, that would be pretty cool.

If it wasn't for the oppressive heat, he might have been able to entertain that idea and watch for falling monkeys. But it was summer in the city and the humidity made it feel like he was breathing through a wet towel. It made him contemplate why he was even here.

"I don't see what was so great about his paintings. They weren't that good."

They taxied down the main causeway and into the heart of the city where, supposedly, their next clue laid in the home of some rich American.

"Yes, well, you're not here to play art critic. You're here to look for a clue." Amy reminded him.

"And what do we do exactly? Knock on the door and ask 'Oh, can we look at your priceless Affandi to see if there's a hidden message for us?'" he asked.

It was unlikely to say the least. Affandi was probably the most famous artist in Indonesia and while they had learned, from a brief run-in with Alistair Oh, that he actually hadn't been a Cahill by blood, he had been inducted as an honorary member by a family that had lived in Jakarta more than a hundred years ago and had sponsored his artwork.

The painting that they were concerning themselves with (as per the vague instructions on a hidden plaque in his former art school) was his self-portrait, which was more difficult than originally thought.

Because Affandi's favourite subject matter seemed to be himself.

"This is the only one that makes sense though," As Amy had pointed out, "It was early in his career around the time that he met with the Cahills. They probably commissioned it too."

"Well, let's hurry it up, I'm dying here." Nellie complained as she fanned herself from the front seat of the cab.

The taxi rolled up outside the front door of a gated house. It was painted white, but had green vines crawling up all sides that nearly touched the roof. Outside the house, however, the three found something of interest.

"Wow…"

"Huh. You know this crest of yours has a habit of showing up in strange places," Nellie commented to the two of them.

"That's not _our_ crest." Dan said staring at it somewhat deflatedly, "It's the Lucian's."

"So… the art collector is a Cahill too?" Amy concluded with a frown of confusion, "But not the one that sponsored Affandi. Then who is it?"

Dan was already pushing the ringer on the intercom that connected with the house, deciding that it was now vital that he investigate their air conditioning. Lucian or no, he didn't want to be boiled out of his skin.

"Dan!" Amy hissed at him furiously, but it was already done.

"Hello?" a female voice prompted them, "Who is it?"

"Hi," he said launching into it with his usual frank tone, "You don't know us, but me and my sister here are Cahills. We're on a quest right now and it's really important that we look at the Affandi that you bought."

There was silence on the other end. For a disparaging second, Dan feared that she'd hung up on them, but the same female voice responded, although sounding a little shaken.

"What branch?"

"We don't exactly know," he explained, realizing that this sounded pretty lame, even to his own ears, "Our parents died before they could tell us."

"Are you…?" there was a sigh of indecision on the other end, "Never mind. Come in then."

There was a loud, metallic click from the gate before it swung open on its hinges to grant them passage. Amy was staring at it in disbelief, her gaze eventually sliding to Dan as he shouldered past her and up the garden path. Nellie followed close behind him with Saladin nestled in her arms. He didn't understand why Amy was hesitating at this so much; the Lucians were richer than Croesus and if they couldn't afford central air in this city then no one could.

He reached the front door, which was painted a deep red color and was thrilled to find that it was already open. Pushing inside, he was greeted with a frosty blast of cold air and drew a deep breath.

Yep. It didn't get much better than this. Even their cheap hotel on the outside of the city hadn't had his precious air conditioning to fight against the humidity. Nellie had tried rinsing out a spare t-shirt in their bathtub, but in two days, it had yet to dry out.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," he heard Amy say as she followed the two of them into the foyer of the house.

It was deserted with no sign of the person who had admitted them into the house. But it was very lavishly decorated with beautiful works of art adorning the walls and a red and white marble floor. The dual Lucien snakes were monogrammed in gold into some of the white tiles.

"They're not in this race, obviously," Dan pointed out in defence of his idea, "And we're related. Why wouldn't they help us?"

"Well… Lucians haven't exactly been…friendly to us."

"True enough, my American cousins," a woman's voice interrupted their conversation.

All three heads turned to the right to lay eyes on the speaker. And the AK-47 clutched in her hands. In another life, Dan might have found this to be just about the coolest thing ever; but after months and months of travel, near-death situations and back-stabbing relatives, the situation had sort of lost its novelty. That and he now knew just how serious these relatives of his were when it came to their weapons…

"Whoa! What?"

"Oh come on…" Nellie muttered in disbelief.

"Did you think I was just going to let you walk in here?" she demanded of them, her eyes narrowed in contempt, "I know exactly who you three are."

"Really? You know who Nellie is?" Dan deadpanned, earning twin looks of reproach from his travelling companions.

The woman seemed to consider that as her eyes travelled to their au pair. She was quite young, Dan realized all of a sudden. Maybe eighteen or nineteen at the most with chestnut hair tied back in a braid and sharp grey eyes. Her fair skin was freckled across her face and she wore a pair of glasses atop her snub nose, making her seem even younger than she probably was.

"Just another complication," she answered in an unsympathetic drawl, "Nothing personal, you understand. But I can't live with the three of you coming after me and my family."

"W-Wait!" Amy cut in, then, realizing that she'd drawn attention to herself, blushed a furious shade of pink, "We… we just wanted to look at a-a picture! We don't…"

"You're Hope Cahill's children!" the woman snapped, the gun rising on her hip as she swung it towards Amy, "Why else would you be here except for revenge?"

"Why would be want revenge on you?" Dan cut in in bewilderment, "We don't even _know _you."

"Don't play dumb," she growled looking between the two of them suspiciously.

Amy and Dan exchanged confused looks with each other. Other than being a Lucian and not having had excellent experiences with their lot, what grudge did they have towards this complete stranger?

"You really don't…" she seemed to understand, the angry look falling from her face to be replaced with a thinly-veiled pity, "Your parents. You have no idea, do you?"

"What?" Dan frowned, "What do you know about our parents?"

The woman was silent, her gaze resting on Amy with a sad gleam in her eyes. The gun lowered to her side and it almost looked like her shoulders had slumped. With a sigh, she pushed her bangs from her forehead.

"It isn't my place to tell you," she said, still sounding somewhat distrustful, "But that doesn't mean I can't do something to help you. We're… family after all."

The way she'd tripped over the word family, it sounded like she was struggling with that very idea. It was oddly relieving, Dan found. He'd been contemplating the same thing since the race started. From what he had seen, families shared gossip over pie and barbeque at reunions in Connecticut—they didn't shoot each other with dart guns or set off bombs intending to kill one another.

"You mean, you'll let us see the guy's painting?" Nellie broke the tense and sad mood.

"Oh, of course," she seemed to remember herself with a nod, "I'm Wendy Bingham. A Lucian, as you can see."

"Nice to meet you," Amy managed with a forced smile. Dan could almost hear what his sister was thinking; this girl knew something about their parents. Something dark and sad that would cause the two of them to want revenge. Did she know something about their deaths?

Wendy had turned and was gesturing the three of them to follow her deeper into the house. The place was pretty extravagant with glittering chandeliers and stunning artwork in gilded frames adorning the walls, but that was becoming typical of these old-family Cahills.

But the room that she led them into seemed a stark contrast from the rest of the house. After punching a code into a pin pad, a steel-enforced door slid to the side to reveal a small enclosed space that wasn't even decorated. The walls were white-washed concrete with shelves of books lined so high that the topmost books touched the ceiling.

"Here's the Affandi," she gestured to the far wall as the three travellers stepped inside, "He painted it for my mother. She was a Janus herself and had a yen for this expressionist stuff."

Amy was frowning now as she stared at the painting, "I thought you said you were a Lucian?"

"My father was one," Wendy explained with a wry smile, "Branches of our family don't usually find love in other branches, but Lucians are the exception there. It's a strange phenomenon, but I think my dad put it best; there's nothing more alluring than a worthy adversary."

The three were silent, neither Dan nor Nellie daring to look at Amy who had blushed even brighter than before and had dropped her gaze to her shoes. It made Dan feel a sickening hatred in the pit of his stomach towards the British jerk. So that was why he'd toyed with his sister—because he'd gotten some disgusting thrill out of fighting with the two of them.

"Twisted, but whatever works," Wendy pronounced, watching Amy with curiosity, "You all right there?"

She nodded mutely, biting her lip, "Th-the painting though, that's the Affandi?"

"Yeah," she said gesturing to it with a wave of her hand, "He's an icon here in Jakarta."

"What is it?" Dan asked making a face at it and receiving a jab from Nellie for his mouth.

"Self portrait," she explained with an affectionate laugh, "I know, I don't get it either. I take after my dad, I guess. Not really artistic at all."

It was a whorl of peach color that, if you squinted at it sideways, might have resembled a human face, but any defining detail— like a nose or eyes—looked ghoulish and distorted. There was green and red mixed in around the background and wisps of yellow in places for hair.

"There's a small 'm' in the middle, isn't there? Is that the clue? " He asked, pointing a finger.

"That's his nose," Nellie explained, "And it's actually pretty good. I think it captures a certain self-loathing and yet acceptance of the past—see the scars— that the artist had embraced and found beautiful."

Dan lifted an eyebrow at her. There were times that he wondered if Nellie really was from this planet at all, because he didn't see any of that.

"Or he just spilled paint on a canvas and tried to save it." He muttered, "Why is this a clue?"

"Because he didn't sign _his_ name on it," Amy said taking a step towards it, eyes wide in delight as she pointed to the bottom right corner.

"What?" Wendy asked, stepping up to join her, "No, there it is. He did sign it."

"His name doesn't start with 'H.'" She said outlining it with her finger without touching it, "And that looks like a 'B' doesn't it?"

"I've never noticed it." The girl said sounding breathless, "All these years, he didn't even sign his own name. Why?"

"Maybe it's not his portrait."

"Well, H.B.—that's my father." Wendy replied, "I mean, it's hard to tell. It doesn't really look like anybody."

"What could that mean?"

Dan, who had grown somewhat bored with the painting discussion, was examining the bookshelves that lined the room. It wasn't the books themselves that interested him. The bookend that he was examining was a little cool-looking. A bowl of rock with a spike in the middle. It was sitting on a pink marble base, which did make it look less interesting, but—

"Dan! Don't touch that!" Amy yelled at him disapprovingly.

His hand slipped though and the bowl fell to the ground with a crash. Dan stepped back, raising his hands in the air and staring down at the broken marble on the cement floor. He chanced a guilty look over at Amy and Wendy to find them staring at him in horror.

"Oops."

"I-I'm so sorry, he's just really clumsy. We'll pay for it, I—"

"Hey, what's this?" Dan asked, picking up the stone basin, which luckily hadn't broken. Examining the underside of the bowl, he came upon a strange inscription.

"I didn't even know that was there," Wendy said as she knelt next to him to have a look. Dan passed it over to the girl as she ran her fingers over the writing with a look of awe on her face, "This belonged to my grandfather. I think he brought it back from Peru."

"Peru? Do you think…?"

"We're going to South America!" Nellie said with a bright grin and an arm pump, "Finally! I'll be able to understand the language!"

Wendy was eyeing the three of them as though she thought they were all crazy, "Let me get this straight: You're going to fly all the way to Peru because that's where this bowl that you broke is from?"

"Yeah. Pretty much," Dan said with a casual shrug.

She looked as though she didn't quite want to believe what they were telling her. But it was the truth; outlandish and unbelievable as it was. Their path these days seemed to be dictated by the smallest of hints, this one included. Finally, her eyes travelled back to the bowl in her palm and she stared at it despairingly.

"I don't suppose that you're hunting down the 39 clues, are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly very hollow.

"How did you know that?" Amy asked, suddenly sounding alarmed. Dan watched her take a retreating step backwards.

Wendy rose to her feet, a guilty look passing over her features, "You're not the first ones to stop by looking for something. I'm sorry, if I'd known, I wouldn't have given them a thing."

Dan's mouth had gone dry and all it seemed that he could do was stare at the girl. They were still behind? After all this? They'd somehow lost their lead.

"Who was it and what did you give them?" Nellie asked in a forced voice, though Dan could see the too-tight grip she held on Saladin. Evidently, he wasn't the only one that was frustrated.

"A boy and a girl," she answered with a sigh, "Two Lucians. You probably have seen them if you're competing against them. I gave them this tiny piece of metal with a hole in it. Half of it was painted red, though I don't know what it was."

Dan hadn't thought his heart could sink any lower than it had, but this was just more proof of how wrong he was. The Kabras had their clue. Or at least half of it. And they were probably already headed to Peru on a private jet.

"Did it say anything on it? Like, I don't know, 'Go drown yourself'?" Dan asked with a hopeful plea.

She chuckled at that, "No, unfortunately, but it did mention the Lost City as well. It said something creepy like '_under marrow and bone of the newly forgotten_.' Really vague stuff."

He sighed and turned back to his silent sister and au pair, "So… we have to go find a Lost City. Great. If it's so lost, then how can anyone find it?"

"Now that I can help you with," Wendy cut in, drawing everyone's eyes to her, "My grandfather was Hiram Bingham III. He was archaeologist who studied in Peru and found a whole bunch of ruins there."

"That narrows it down, I suppose." Amy conceded.

"Yes, but the most famous thing he discovered was Machu Picchu: the Lost City of the Incas." She said with an excited grin, "And I'll bet that's where you're headed."

A/N: A word about Hiram Bingham. He actually existed and did discover Machu Picchu. His granddaughter is alive today and currently lives in Indonesia, although for the purposes of this story, her name has been altered. I just found that writing dialogue for a real, live person was a little weird, so let's just assume that 'Wendy' is her made-up sister or cousin.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

*=*=*Chapter 2*=*=*

**Jakarta****, Indonesia**

*=*=*

If that had been the conclusion of their visit with Wendy Bingham, Amy might have left Indonesia with a song in her heart and renewed faith in their team. They were on the right track and they had the little bowl with them. Even the Kabras didn't have that; all they'd gotten was a twig of metal and one simple phrase. Amy and Dan had gotten three whole lines worth of clue.

But that hadn't been the end.

As they were leaving and saying their farewells with the promise of returning the bowl when this was all finished, Wendy stopped them before they'd left her front steps.

"Wait," she said haltingly, causing the three of them to turn, "The people on this hunt of yours… you need to watch out for them."

"Well duh. We figured that out after the first bomb went off." Dan said with a lazy grin.

"I'm being serious. Bombs are child's-play to Cahills," She warned looking utterly sober, "Unless you want what happened to your parents to happen to you—"

"What do you know about our parents?" Amy blurted out quite suddenly. It didn't feel as though it was her who had spoken, but rather an outside entity. How could that steady, commanding voice belong to her when she felt like pudding inside?

"It's not my place…" Wendy started to say, but then bit her lip looking torn.

"You know something though, don't you?" Dan jumped in.

"Yes, but… Agh! I have to do something to make this right! God knows, if we can't be better than our parents then why are we even here…" she added with a quiet conviction and a calming breath, "Almost eight years ago, my father was involved in talks with other Lucians specifically about your parents. He knew what was going to happen, I think. So did Hope. She contacted my mother to ask if she'd heard anything about it, but my mother…"

Wendy trailed off, glancing up at the siblings expectantly as though concerned about how they were taking this. A hand reached up to rub the back of her neck guiltily. Again, she hesitated, but steeled herself and pressed on.

"My mother lied to her. She said there was nothing to worry over," the girl confessed, "One week later, the fire started and… well, you know the rest."

Numb didn't quite describe it. Whatever Amy was feeling, it was as though her mind had been separated from her body, unable to think or speak. There was too much to focus on that it all started to blur into one jarring feeling of betrayal, though not all of it made sense. There was resentment towards Wendy, towards the Lucians, towards… well, _him_. And oddly enough, towards her mother too. If she had so much as suspected that they were in danger, why hadn't she gone into hiding? Why hadn't she run away?

Amy was too busy battling her feelings to notice that Nellie was speaking to Wendy or that Dan had taken her by the arm and was leading her sullenly out the door. They hadn't looked back, not even once.

"Hey," Nellie had called to her softly, touching her forearm to bring her back to reality. They were in their cab and heading for Jakarta International Airport, "You okay, kiddo?"

She glanced at Dan who looked to be quietly fuming in the seat next to her. He hadn't spoken yet either and Amy couldn't bring herself to be the one to break that silence. Instead, she nodded wordlessly as Nellie squeezed her arm in sympathy and left her to her thoughts.

*=*=*

**Machu Picchu****, Peru**

*=*=*

It was pre-dawn and the sloping valleys that led to the Urubamba River below seemed like gaping black holes ready to swallow a person whole if they leaned too far over. It would have been desolate and empty, if it hadn't been for the site itself. Light from the moon radiated eerily off the granite slabs of rock that made up the world-famous Machu Picchu ruins. And, annoyingly enough, off of three garish yellow tents, pitched in a spot next to the entrance to the main tomb.

Goddamn Holts.

Ian hated them, the thuggish brutes. How they could be classified as human, let alone related to the likes of him was an utter mystery. And it was because of those morons that he and Natalie had been reduced to camping on top of a mountain in this frigid weather. He knew the Holts had bribed the staff into letting them camp outside that he was forced to do the same in order to keep an eye on them.

Irina was here too, although her camp was so well hidden that even he couldn't spot it. She had arrived yesterday aboard the same train that he and Natalie had, though they hadn't spoken a word to each other. Alastair Oh had materialized as well, but Ian could guess that he'd taken to the comfort of the hotel outside the entrance gates.

He fiddled with a silver cell phone in his hands, his mind taking inventory of his fellow hunters.

There was no sign of the ill-mannered American celebrity and neither of Amy and Dan. Perhaps they had run out of money or given up. A while ago, he might have rejoiced at the idea of them heading back to their hovel in Boston, but now…

Ian sighed to himself piteously and glanced up at the sliver of moon in the sky.

Now what? Now he didn't like to think about what his thoughts towards Amy were. Natalie was too attuned to his emotions to allow him to risk dwelling on her; he just couldn't have anything like_ that_ getting back to Father. It was only in times like this, when he was alone, that he even dared.

Ian closed his eyes, trying to calm down, but fear had already started to gnaw at him. Images flashed through his mind of her, lying broken and bleeding somewhere on the streets of Indonesia with that fool of a brother of hers standing helplessly by. It made him angry; both at himself and at her for bothering with this whole thing. She should have just taken her million dollars and stayed at home!

They'd have both been the better for it.

"Why are you up?" a tired whine called to him from the inside of their tent.

Ian twisted in his seat to see a dishevelled Natalie crawling through the canvas opening to glare at him accusingly. She had a blanket wrapped tightly around her, but was still shivering in the cold.

"Couldn't sleep," he excused it indifferently, stuffing the phone back into the pocket of his trousers.

She moaned at him, "This is getting to be a habit, isn't it?"

"No," Ian snapped defensively, "I was just bored and watching the stars."

"Go back to bed. You can watch the stars later, when you don't have to disturb my sleep to do it." Natalie told him, holding open the entrance with a yawn.

He wanted to protest, but decided that it was probably in his best interests not to. Alerting his sister's suspicions was never a wise move, even if she wasn't so perceptive in the mornings. Ian ambled back inside and crawled under the blankets once more, listening until the sounds of Natalie's breathing grew steady and slow.

*=*=*

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Amy asked their au pair as she tied the strings of her llama-wool cap under her chin. It scratched horribly, but it was by far better than freezing to death in the mountains.

"It's the fastest," she replied with a non-committal shrug.

"But isn't it illegal and dangerous?"

"That's a matter of opinion."

"And in the opinion of the police?"

"Ok, fine," Nellie huffed, "Yes, it is illegal and yes, we could get run over by a train, but think of how much_ faster_ it is! We'll be there_ tomorrow_!"

Amy sighed, knowing full well that she wasn't going to win Dan over on this either. He was already cramming food supplies into their backpacks, itching to get a move on and catch up to the competition.

The plan to take the Inca Trail had been scrapped—it was going to take two days at the very least and Nellie had complained that she didn't think she could take much more altitude sickness. It left them with one viable option: walking along the train tracks to Machu Picchu. It would be a one-day journey that would put them at the ruins by nightfall—with no mountains in between them. And so, last night, they had used what little money they had left to barter for food and warmer clothing for the trip up to Machu Picchu.

"Don't be a wuss," Dan told her as he ripped into a cereal box to conserve space, "It's not the first time we've bent a few laws to get by. Remember that boat in Venice?"

She glared at him, "You almost got us killed."

"Exactly, _almost_," he said as though proud of that fact, "Meaning I didn't."

"Not for lack of trying—"

"Okay, enough!" Nellie said, silencing the both of them by raising her voice. The siblings turned to her with stunned looks on their faces, never having heard of their beloved au pair doing that before. Heck, even Nellie herself looked a little shocked and amended it with; "Can you please wait until I have my earbuds in before you start bickering?"

*=*=*

"Unbelievable…"

"..."

"Un-_bloody_-believable…"

"Did you expect any less from _that_ self-important windbag?"

"I hope they arrest him."

Her big brother sighed, passing a hand over his face in exhaustion. It was no wonder either; he shouldn't have been staying up so late like he was. It made him pale and grumpy, neither of which were of any use to her on this hunt.

"Here's the right prat now," she growled, edging away from the bars of the entrance gate as the guards on the other side started to open it.

Ian followed Natalie's movements, although from the way he was watching the scene, she didn't suppose that he was paying as close attention or feeling the rage that he rightly should. Something was off about him, she thought.

"Yo c'mon, man! That ain't right!" the grating, exaggerated tones of Jonah Wizard drifted over the din of the confused tourists around them, "Hey Pops! You gonna let them talk to the Wiz Man like that?"

"Ugh!" Natalie groaned, sickened by the display "Who would actually _pay _to listen to him?"

A few shrieks erupted from the gathered crowd that had been forced off the ruin that morning as they saw Jonah and his father being led by the police through the open gate. Cameras flashed and girls squealed as they recognized who it was. Feeding off the attention, he flashed a big wide grin at all the Western tourists and raised his hands in the air in a 'give-it-up' gesture.

"Aww, yeah! My adoring peeps came out to pay a little respect. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!"

Natalie watched as Ian's lip curled in disgust and felt a momentary flash of relief that her older brother wasn't sick or anything.

The reason for this commotion wasn't the fact that Jonah had shown up here, much as he wanted to believe it. It was the fact that he had landed a private helicopter on top of the centuries-old ruins in order to get there. Understandably, the Machu Picchu staff had been upset and had ordered everyone off the site until further notice, calling up the police from the nearby town of Aguas Calientes.

"Yo copper, watch the merchandise!" he snapped at the policeman who was trying to restrain his hands as he tried to wave them, "Or Ima lay down some real gangsta shiz right now!"

The Kabra siblings exchanged looks of confusion over just what it was that had just come out of his mouth. The Peruvian authorities didn't seem to understand either as the two that were escorting him shrugged their shoulders and exchanged a few words in Spanish before ploughing through the crowd to the awaiting squad car.

"Wonder when they'll let us back on," Natalie grumbled.

"Probably not until they get rid of his helicopter," he reasoned, casting a look about them for their other competitors, "The bright side is that while we can't look, neither can _they_."

"But those stupid Cahills, they'll catch up now." She whined in irritation, stomping her foot in the dirt, "It's just not fair! We did all this work to get here early and because of that no-talent hack, we lose our lead!"

Ian was silent in reply, but Natalie could have sworn that she saw a faint glimmer in his eye and the briefest twitch at his mouth. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was no way that her big brother could still be concerned over that foolish girl's fate. He'd gotten that well and truly out of his system in Kyrgyzstan when they'd learned that they'd been duped and their competition had escaped.

Natalie didn't like to think about how Ian was then; she looked up to him too much to focus on that weak spell of his. Yet every now and then, she did wonder about him. He'd been a shell of his former self even as they'd left the airport in Seoul, barely speaking and hardly listening to her at all. He didn't say it, and likely never would, but she knew that Amy had had something to do with it. Something the little witch had said or done to him had changed him.

"Relax," he told her with a knowing smirk as his fingers removed a thin strip of metal from his pocket, "Even if they do catch up, they won't know where to look."

"Ah yes," she said with a cat-like smile, "'Beneath the newly-forgotten.' I don't suppose they'll know about that."

"Don't suppose they will."

*=*=*

It was drizzling as they walked. A cold, soaking drizzle that easily sliced through the wool sweater that Dan had thrown over his own cotton one. The cold would have been bad enough, but every now and then, his feet would slip on the slick wooden tracks and he'd struggle for balance.

Amy seemed to be feeling it too. Her hair hung in clumped, wet strands, her hat already a lost casualty to the rain, and she was shaking against the cold. She had been reading a guidebook about four hours earlier, but once the first drops of rain started, she had stuffed it under her shirt to keep it dry.

And Nellie? Nellie was busy talking animatedly with a fellow traveller who had decided on the cheap, fast and illegal route as well. His name was Pablo or Pedro—Dan didn't remember which—he was from Chile, spoke no English and seemed to have a fascination with their au pair's nose ring. But he had been carrying Saladin's cat carrier for them since he'd joined their party, so the Cahills had little to complain about.

"Are we anywhere close?" he mumbled to Amy.

"Not even." She answered miserably, "Can you dig out the chips?"

Dan obliged, swinging his backpack from his shoulder and tossing her the half-eaten bag. He pulled out the bowl that was their next clue and decided that he might as well puzzle over it for a while.

"You know, I read that this place isn't really a 'city' at all," Amy began reciting to him what she'd read both on the plane and in the guidebook that morning, "It was a pilgrimage centre, or so they believe now."

"So, are we even going to the right place? It said the 'Lost City,' didn't it? Shouldn't we be looking for a city then?" he asked, suddenly alarmed by this new information. Had they come all this way for nothing?

"No," she said shaking her head, "Because back in 1911 when he discovered it, Hiram Bingham believed it was a city. He was referring to Machu Picchu."

"Hmm," Dan grunted, his panic ebbing as Amy continued to prattle on about the ruin's significance.

"It's an Incan enclave that was never discovered by the Spanish conquistadors, and eventually, the natives here forgot about its location entirely. So, it stayed lost for hundreds of years."

"Fascinating," He drawled, but Amy ignored him.

"And they say he 'discovered' it, but actually there were already indigenous people living around there at the time who'd known about the ruin for ages," she explained, "Then, when he left, he took a bunch of artefacts back with him to the United States. Of course, the Peruvian government was never happy about that, claiming that he'd stolen pieces of their history."

Dan sighed and sent Nellie a 'help me!' look. But she was too busy talking to their new friend to notice that Amy had just slipped into lecture-mode, oblivious to her very disinterested audience.

"—You've got to admire the people who managed to live here though. This place is so removed from everywhere else, but people still farmed and had lives here."

He was tuning her out, instead focusing his attention on their clue and watching as rainwater started to pool around the spike in the middle. He half expected that hidden words would start appearing as the water hit it, but nothing happened.

"There is something in the clue that bothers me though," she continued pointing to the bowl in his hands. This peaked Dan's attention and he glanced up from his project to see her staring at it.

"What?"

"The words 'Machu Picchu' mean 'old mountain' in Quechua," she said, "But the clue talks about youth. It's just a little contradictory that he'd mention something like that."

"You're sure this is the right place though?" he asked again, tired of worrying about coming all this way for nothing.

"Of course," she said with a convinced nod, "It's the Lost City, there's no mistaking that. Whatever we're supposed to find, it'll be there."

The rest of the journey was uneventful, except for one minor instance. It had happened about two hours from their final destination. Dan had given up trying to fill the basin, had replaced it in his backpack and was trying not to notice just how painful and swollen his feet were. They were coming up to a tunnel leading through a mountain. By that point, they'd passed what felt like dozens of them. Apart from being dark at points and frighteningly narrow, it wasn't too bad. The problem was, it was only wide enough for a single track and a shallow ditch on either side.

"He says it's fine," Nellie had told them, translating for the Chilean man, "If a train's going to come through, it'll blow its whistle way before it gets to us. We'll have time to get out or hug the wall.

Amy had been skittish before the earlier ones, but after nothing had happened, she eventually let her guard down a little.

It was a curved tunnel that they had come upon this time. Not the first one they'd encountered, but neither was it really safe. It was perhaps because of his sore feet that Dan didn't notice the vibrations at first. His head was up and he was straining to see in the darkness. The light was so faint that he didn't see Amy stop and bumped into her from behind. Nellie seemed to be struggling with it too.

"Ow! My foot," Nellie complained as she tripped over a raised slat in the tracks, "Hang on a sec."

"Nellie…"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can't feel them anyway."

"Do you hear…?"

"_Al lado_! _Al lado_!"

"What?" Dan called over Amy's muttering and the Spanish yelling, "Can I get a translation?"

"Dan? Dan! Where are you?!"

"_Tren_! _Salgan del camino_!"

"Oh crap! Guys, _move_! Now!"

A half second later, Dan heard it and saw the headlights that nearly blinded him. He froze for a fatal half second, too stunned and mesmerized by its slow advancement to even process what was happening. His first thought however wasn't to run, wasn't to dive to the side or yell to Amy or Nellie. No, his first thought was that the train wasn't blowing its whistle. Why wasn't it doing that?

"Dan!" he heard Amy shriek as the light illuminated the tunnel. She was lying in the ditch at the side, next to Nellie, and beckoning to him, "Get over here!"

He would have moved too. He had it in his mind to, but his feet just hadn't been cooperating. By some miracle though, someone had reached up and grabbed him by the handle of his knapsack, wrenching him backwards with neck-breaking force. He landed on his back in the shallow ditch with his backpack crushed uncomfortably beneath him. Dan felt like an overturned turtle with his belly raised in the air and his arm pinned against the wall, but it was better than getting flattened on the tracks. Seconds later, the train went screaming past them with a deafening noise. Loose gravel rained down on his face and he scrunched his eyes and mouth closed, snorting as a pebble lodged itself in his nose.

It was over after a few merciful seconds, although the train's whistle nearly blew out his ear drums as it exited the tunnel. He sat up wiping the dust from his face and looked after it with an annoyed glare. So _now_ it blew the whistle. Great, Amy had proof she was right. She was never going to stop—

"You idiot!" Amy cried at him. He turned his head to protest, but before the words had even left his mouth she had launched herself at him in a life-affirming hug. He tried to speak, but she was wrapped around his throat.

A second later Nellie appeared beside them and ruffled his hair with her hand affectionately. He hated when she did that because he'd seen her do the same thing to dogs, but Dan decided he could let her off easily in light of the whole near-death-situation thing.

But only this once…

*=*=*

It was nightfall by the time that Amy, Dan, Nellie and Saladin arrived at the outpost just outside of Machu Picchu. Weary, travel-sore and unable to go any further, they'd said goodbye to Pedro—which was indeed his name— and found a cheap hostel to crash at for the night.

While Saladin stretched his legs on Amy's bed, Dan lumbered onto the top bunk and was asleep within moments, one stocking foot dangling off the edge. She smiled weakly at that, feeling the same exhaustion deep in her bones. Tomorrow, they'd all be aching and sore, but they'd have to push on.

"What do you think, boy? Excited to go spelunking?" Amy asked the cat as she pried open a tin of his food. The Egyptian Mau batted a paw at her expectantly.

"His thoughts don't go far beyond his stomach," Nellie warned with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, "Though, I doubt they'll just let us take him onto the site. What should we do with him?"

Amy set the tin down before him, "Would you stay with him while me and Dan go? I know you wanted to see it too, but—"

"No, that works, actually," she said, with surprising enthusiasm for the idea, "Pedro mentioned that he's meeting friends in a town not far from here. Might be able to take the little guy with us."

"Oh… I didn't know you were so close." She replied in a quiet voice, her eyes dropping back down to the cat in her lap.

Nellie was silent, but Amy could feel her questioning gaze. Amy didn't want to look at her right now. It was too easy to become frustrated and jealous. Nellie was self-confident, easygoing and made friends as easily as she breathed. Not to mention that she actually knew how to deal with the curveballs that life threw at her and didn't get bogged down by just how cruddy other people could be…

"You guys work better without me around anyway," she said, shrugging off the tension in the room, "Remember Russia? That was all you two—not that I'm ever going to let you ditch me like that again."

Amy nodded, cheered slightly, "We won't."

"Good," she said dashing back to the bathroom to spit. Saladin was busy licking the now-empty tin before glancing up at Amy as though to demand more. She shooed him off the bed and slipped under the covers.

Minutes later, Nellie emerged from their bathroom and settled into her own bed, switching her headphones on and falling into that music-induced coma that she always did. The faint, tinny noise that issued from them had become oddly soothing to Amy and eventually lulled her into a sleep filled with endless railroad tracks and a pair of haunting black eyes.

*=*=*

A/N: For the sake of my sanity, Jonah won't be making too many appearances in this story. I find him frustrating to write for without using and re-using clichéd expressions or going over the top. Also, from this chapter on, there will be no more flashbacks (I promise!).

For the Spanish:

_Al lado_-- to the side

_Tren, Salgan del camino_ -- train, get out of the way

(Apologies if the Spanish isn't perfect. I'm not fluent and have never actually had any reason to yell those words aloud.)

And thank you very much to the 7 wonderful people who reviewed! Keep them coming and I'll be sure to update as soon as I finish writing the next chapter. I've only started reading the fifth book so, if there is anything monumental that happened in that book but wasn't included in this story, that's why.

-FF0


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For extremely obvious reasons (or at least the ones I'm aware of), this story is now considered AU. My apologies for taking forever to update. I did pretty much abandon this story, but a recent review reminded me that I had the third chapter almost done. And I just remembered why I enjoyed writing it so much in the first place. So here you are.

*=*=*Chapter 3*=*=*

So the gang was all here, assembled once more in the same location. To Irina, it came as a mild relief. Her intel-network had been stretched to the limits trying to keep tabs on everyone. However, Jakarta had ultimately proved to be a bust for her. It was only through keeping track of the Holts that she had managed to follow them this far.

They, she knew, had a found a hint as to where the next clue was hidden.

It was generally easy to tell who had and who hadn't. Alastair Oh, for instance, hadn't, for he had spent the last two days studiously watching the Holts as they scurried around the main tomb. Their cries to each other had been so loud that they may as well have simply posted a sign that the clue was hidden somewhere beneath it.

But the Kabra children were another story. Either they had no clue or they were playing things pretty close to the chest. The elder one, the boy, had spent the previous day watching the Holts, Alastair and herself—when he believed that she wasn't looking. But the girl had been skulking around the outer rims of the tomb, careful to avoid the boisterous Holts, but close enough to monitor any activity. It was… not their usual pattern to say the least.

Which was why she was listening in on their bugged hotel room.

"I'm _sick _of this waiting around," the girl was whining, yet again, "I say we forget the Holts, forget the old cow, and just hunt elsewhere. They've been following us the whole time anyway."

"It's different," he told her, "With everyone this close together, do you want to get killed or robbed before we even get there?"

She snorted, "You think anyone would dare? Oh come off it! Spasky won't touch us because of Father, the Asian doesn't have the stomach for it and if we can't outsmart the muscle-heads, we don't deserve to win!"

"We wait. You're not going near the graves until we are in the clear."

She made an exasperated noise, "You're not even listening to me! And you're not the one taking the risks here either."

"Just stop complaining and do it already," the boy snapped at her, then added in a gentler tone, "I can speed things up if you need me to—"

"Very much appreciated, brother," she said snippily, "Don't know why you didn't do it before now…"

It wasn't concrete, but enough to know that the British brats were plotting something. She didn't know what exactly and they started whining at each other over the Jonah Wizard inconvenience and then over the rain and its effect on the girl's hair. Nothing of any importance.

It just meant that Irina would have to keep a closer eye on both siblings.

As dawn broke, the Cahill descendents lined up at the gates. Grace's grandchildren were there too, looking stiff and tired from their journey. The younger boy kept yawning widely and the older girl had deep bags under her eyes. The Holts had arrived too, a few of their young brutes beginning to harass the two children. The Kabras and Alastair showed up at the last minute, as the guards were staring at their watches and counting down the seconds.

"Hey Amy," she turned to see the Kabra boy catcalling to the girl at the front, "A-a-amy."

She didn't turn to answer him and continued to stare straight ahead, her mouth drawn in a tense line. It gave Irina chills to see just how closely she resembled Grace right then. The brother whispered something to her and she nodded silently. It was an interesting development, but Irina didn't have time to ponder it as the gates clicked open and the hunt began again.

He was doing it again. His regime of taunting and teasing her, making crude suggestions for his sister to laugh at and then flashing that unbelievable smile in her direction… it was wearing Amy down.

Each time she expected something different to happen—shouldn't she have gotten used to it after all? Shouldn't she have developed a little more courage? But it never was any different. All it took was for him to call her name and it happened. A blush would blossom on her cheeks, her heartbeat would start to thunder in her ears and her knees suddenly refused to move. The immobilizing effect was so complete that it felt like her brain had almost ceased to function and it took Dan telling her to ignore him before she remembered to breathe again.

Just one of the many reasons she hated Ian Kabra.

But the moment the gates opened, she no longer had to think about him. Arms jostled her as a stampede of Holts tried to push past Dan and her in the race up to the terraces. She took an elbow to the eye and cried out in pain, doubling over in an effort to protect her face.

When she looked up, everybody but Dan and her were rapidly disappearing up the hill. It was easy enough to pick out Ian's retreating back, his black sports jacket whipping behind him as he walked. She quickly turned her gaze back to her brother.

"You okay?" he asked her. She knew the annoyance in his voice was for the jerk that had elbowed her and not for slowing them down.

"Yeah, it's still there, I think," she said taking her hand away from her eye. It was still throbbing and sore and hurt to blink, but they had to get going.

"Too bad," he said with a wry smile, "You could have had an eye patch. That would have been sweet."

Amy rolled her eyes at that, then stopped realizing how much that hurt. They trudged up the hill slowly along with the other normal, camera-toting tourists. There was a thick fog that morning that hung about the ruin, just before the cliffs plunged into the valley below. It was the first time that Amy had ever laid eyes on the ruin and she was not disappointed.

There was terrace after terrace of these roofless, granite rooms leading up like a staircase to an expansive lawn at the centre. It literally felt like a village floating in the clouds, with a brilliant blue sky overhead and majestic mountains jutting up on all sides. The sun was peeking over the horizon, a retina-burning ball of orange that lent just enough light to the area to see by.

It was breath-taking.

"Wow…"

"I know… it's—"

"—just like out of Indiana Jones."

Amy threw him an incredulous expression. Right. They'd come all this way to see this spectacular, world-famous site that was steeped in mystery and beauty and the only thing that Dan appreciated was that it was like the setting of some dumb action-hero movie! Well, if that wasn't depressing she didn't know what was.

"Right…" she agreed dryly, "My thoughts exactly."

"What are they doing?" Dan asked pointing a finger in the direction of the Holts. Amy squinted against the sun as she followed his finger.

"I don't know." She answered, frowning in puzzlement at what she saw, "They look like they're guarding something."

"Don't tell me they've found it already." He muttered.

Amy had fished the tour map out of her pocket and flipped it open. Her finger traced their path up from the entrance to locate what it was that they were standing before. Reagan and Madison were stationed out front, their hoods pulled over their heads for warmth. They looked bored and tired to Amy, but Hamilton, who kept popping in and out of the downward-leading entrance like a gopher, was energetic enough.

"It's the main tomb here," She relayed to Dan, glancing up worriedly, "'Beneath bone and marrow of the newly forgotten.' I'd say we're looking for a tomb, right?"

"But what about the whole 'newly' part of it? The old geezers that are buried there aren't exactly… fresh?" Dan commented optimistically.

Amy bit her lip knowing that he was right. It didn't fit perfectly, but was it too much to hope that their competition was wrong? The Holts obviously did have some sort of clue as to where to go. Who was to say that they weren't right? She scanned the rest of the map anxiously praying that there was another newer tomb located nearby.

"Uh oh," she heard him say and jerked her head up, "They've got company."

At first, she didn't understand what he was talking about. He was pointing towards the far end of the tomb which was almost completely cast in shadow from the sun. Whatever it was, neither of the Holt girls noticed it either.

"Wait for it…"

And then there she was. Dressed in her black trench coat, a small figure peeked out from behind the stone wall to watch the activity at the entrance. Her jet black hair danced across her face as she kept to the darkness. Even at a distance, she was easily recognizable. Natalie Kabra.

"Seems like they have the same idea," Dan ventured, distaste evident enough in his tone "I mean, it was their clue that said that."

"I think they're both wrong." Amy replied thinking quickly, "There is nothing new about that tomb. It can't be the right one."

"Do you know where the right one is?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder to see what she was looking at so intently. The map was unfolded in her hands and she had been staring at it.

She paused as the wheels started to turn and the connections were made. The settlement here made by the Incas was too old, which begged the question of who had died here that was young enough to fit the bill. Hiram Bingham had died and been buried back in the United States, so it certainly wasn't him. But people had been living here long after the Incas, hadn't they?

"What about the people that showed him this place?" she theorized aloud, the makings of a brilliant idea starting to come together, "I read in the guidebook that an eleven-year-old boy was the one who brought Hiram Bingham up the mountain to these ruins. The boy's father was a farmer in the area—these people had to have some sort of graveyard, didn't they?"

Amy had already dropped the map to the ground and was flipping through the guidebook that she had brought along, trying desperately to remember where she had read that information. Dan had picked up the discarded map and was looking at the symbols with interest.

"We may have to leave the ruin to find this place," he said resignedly, "I'll bet they didn't bury people here after it was discovered."

She frowned in thought, looking up from her work, "But the clue says 'beneath the Lost City.' It can't be that far away."

A silence followed as it became very clear that they didn't really know where to start. Anxiously, Amy turned back to her book as Dan continued to watch the Holts from their safe distance. There was so much information on the ruin in the Peru guidebook that sifting through it all to see where she'd found that information was going to take a long while. She was just about to recommend that they go find a tour guide and ask about it when Dan spoke.

"He's not doing anything; just sitting there watching."

"Who?" Amy asked.

"Mr. My-Armani-Suit-Cost-More-Than-Your-House," he answered in a mocking imitation, gesturing across the knoll to where Ian Kabra sat atop what looked like a granite bench, "He hasn't moved in ten minutes."

She tried to ignore the small tug in her chest at the sight of him, "And Natalie? Is she still down there?"

He paused, taking a second to locate her before speaking again, "Yeah, she is. Holts still haven't noticed either."

"I wonder what they're doing," Amy said hollowly as she turned back to the page, not wanting to spend another second dwelling on the Kabras' activities. She had to focus on her own if she was going to get them anywhere.

"Nothing, by the looks of it," Dan reported with marked confusion, "I think Alastair Oh has the same idea. He's just watching them. And—hey! There's our Russian comrade too! Something really weird is going on…"

Amy put down the book for a moment to take in the scene that Dan had. Bizarre as it was, he was absolutely right. Hidden a decent way back from where Ian sat in the open was Irina Spasky, crouched in the ruins of a hidden house and barely visible if it wasn't for the small, slit window carved in the rock. She was watching them as well.

"I don't understand…" she said with a frown, "They look like they're all waiting for something to happen. But what is it?"

"Beats me."

Amy glanced down at the map briefly, deciding that it was no use just sitting around waiting for something to happen. If it was going to happen, there was nothing they were going to do about it.

"There's an old farming plot on the other side that was used by the Incas," she told him, "I'll bet that that was where the 'newly forgotten' farmed too."

"And that is helpful why, exactly?" Dan asked.

"Because if we find where they were farming, it probably isn't too far from where they lived, right?" she reasoned.

"Beats just standing here," he agreed and picked up his backpack from where he'd dropped it before. Amy straightened up too, stuffing the map away and getting ready to go.

The two set out on the most direct course across the ruins, meandering around the houses and down the steep, three-foot steps to the preserved agricultural area. They two of them were sure to give the Holts a wide berth, but it certainly did attract the stares of their competition. Amy could feel their eyes burning holes through her and could almost hear them wondering what they were doing. She half-expected someone to follow them, but no one did and they made it to the far side of the enclosure safely and descended down the stairs and out of sight.

There weren't any tourists where they had landed, but Amy didn't expect that that would last. The place drew hundreds of tourists everyday and they probably wouldn't be alone for much longer. It just meant that they would need to work fast.

"Huh… I thought it would be bigger." Dan commented on the small plot of land that had been outlined by a tiny stone wall and then roped off from tourists for preservation.

"Remember, it wasn't a city," Amy said as she circled around the patch and took in the surroundings. A fence blocked off the spot where the land dipped sharply downwards, presumably to keep tourists from tumbling to their deaths down the steep slope.

"Right, the pilgrim thing," he recalled, leaning over the rope barrier to get a closer look. It was overgrown with grass now, kept dutifully trimmed by the maintenance staff, "You remember what Wendy said earlier?"

Amy tensed at the mention of that conversation, "About our parents?"

Dan nodded, looking troubled, "You know who the head of the Lucian branch is, right?"

She couldn't speak, feeling like the wind had been kicked out of her. Her gaze dropped back to the fence she'd been examining to hide the blush that was staining her cheeks. Yes, like that thought hadn't crossed her mind a million times since they'd left Jakarta along with every second she had spent with Ian Kabra.

"He didn't ever mention—?"

"No," she answered, cutting him off abruptly, "He didn't tell me."

Dan sank into silence, probably sensing the very 'off-limits' tone that Amy was using. She knew it was unfair to him; he had just as much a stake in knowing whether or not the Kabras had been responsible for their parents' deaths as she did. But how exactly did you confess to your kid brother that you had kissed and almost fallen for a member of the family that was responsible for making you an orphan? And it was the truth; she didn't know for sure.

"I want to know," he told her, this vulnerable look on his face as though he was seeking her approval, "If we get a chance to find out about them, I want to know."

She nodded her agreement, sympathizing whole-heartedly, "Me too."

"And if we…"

Dan's eyes suddenly grew wide and his mouth opened as though he were about to sneeze. Amy stared at him in confusion and was about to ask what was his problem when his hand rose to the back of his neck and pulled at something black that came away easily in his hand.

"Dan?" she asked, her voice starting to quiver nervously, "Wh-what's that—?"

His eyelids had started to droop and his mouth fell open farther as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. One hand shot out to catch the rope before him and kept him standing. The other opened to reveal a small, black dart with a red band.

"Run." Was the last word he spoke before his knees gave out and he collapsed on the ground, his shoulder thankfully breaking his fall so that he didn't hit his head.

Amy cried out and scrambled over to him, calling his name repeatedly. By the time she'd reached him, he'd lost consciousness but was still very much alive. The dart lay in the grass next to him and she picked it up in horror. Who would have shot her brother? She knew only two people who readily carried around dart guns… Fearfully, she glanced up, scanning the area above them for the Kabras. One of them had to have done this!

She dragged Dan's limp body beneath the giant steps that had led them down there. Her heart hammered in her chest as she fought not to cry with her brother's head cradled in her lap. It made no sense! Here she was, just waiting patiently until someone came down to peg her as well. What was she doing there?

She could hear someone, their heavy footfalls sounding on the grass above her. Amy squeezed her eyes shut in terror and pulled Dan closer. Running was the last thing on her mind; she was absolutely not leaving him there. She didn't care what those horrible Kabras were about to do to her for not making a break for it.

"We'll be okay," she promised him in a scared whisper, "We'll be okay."

As the Cahill children were discreetly making their way down the opposing side of the ruin, Irina Spasky was holding position behind the granite housing. It made her nervous to see them separate like this because it meant they had some sort of clue with them. She debated following them for a moment and had yet to make up her mind when something else of interest caught her eye. Ian Kabra was standing now, turned in her direction and walking silently over to her.

"I don't suppose we can strike an agreement, can we?" he called out to her in his usual drawl.

She frowned at him, "Why would I trust _you_ again?"

"Come now," Ian said with a silky laugh, "Surely you still want a Lucian victory. Could you imagine a _Tomas_ winning this contest?"

Her lip curled in distaste, but common sense held her back. She knew she couldn't believe a word the boy said; he was far too clever for his own good and had pulled one too many fast-ones on her before.

"Here's the plan; me and Natalie will go take out the Cahills, but I need someone here to watch the Holts and to keep me posted if they find anything," he said, serious as could be. "Think you can do that?"

He spoke to her as though she were a child and not fifty years his senior. It was irksome and she was tempted to reject the deal out of spite, if not for the fact that he made an unnerving amount of sense. Still...

"No," she sneered, getting to her feet and hiking her bag up over one shoulder, "_I_ will take care of the siblings. _You _can keep watching the meatheads."

She was satisfied to see the dissenting glint in the boy's eye, but wisely, he kept silent and didn't push the argument. With an indifferent shrug, he told her it didn't matter to him which she preferred—so long as both were taken care of. He turned his back to her while Irina pulled out her gun and began loading it.

"Don't kill her, Spasky," she heard him say over his shoulder, pausing a moment before retreating back down the hill. His voice was firm, but there was something softer about his eyes.

"You mean _them_," Irina corrected.

Ian said nothing in reply, instead letting the sentence fall flat as he descended back down the hill to his post. Irina stared after him, only half-interested. Something was off about that boy, but she didn't care enough to find out what. If he wanted them left alive, well, that was fine. She wasn't in the habit of killing children anyway.

With that in mind, she checked the cartridge load on her tranquilizer gun, lightly fingering the red plastic fringe tails that kept them flying straight. It would keep them out of the game for one day, perhaps that would be enough.

Dan awoke to the smell of eggs frying in a pan—somewhere. Where that was, exactly, didn't seem too familiar. Wooden beams criss-crossed dizzyingly over his head and the scratchy feel of wool burned against his skin as he moved his head. How had he gotten here?

"Welcome back to the land of the living..." he heard someone say, inclining his head a little to get a better view. Nellie was standing in the doorway of wherever he happened to be, a wry expression on her face and Saladin wrapped in her arms.

"Where in the...? What?" he muttered incoherently. The practice of forming sentences had apparently deserted him.

At this, Nellie pulled a tight smile and sauntered over to the bed where he was laying. With a little forced encouragement, the cat hopped out of her grip and onto Dan's legs with a disgruntled 'mrrp' and a mournful look thrown her way.

"You were hit with a tranquilizer this morning," she answered his query, her voice straining to stay level, "Probably the Kabras trying to slow us down because they're too stupid to figure anything out on their own. They're going to pay for that, by the way—"

"—And Amy?" he croaked, blinking hard.

"Asleep on Pedro's friend's couch. We're crashing here tonight," Nellie answered quietly, sinking down onto the comforter next to him. There was an extended pause before she spoke next, "Look dude, I know I gave up telling you kids how to run your lives when I took off with you, but today was seriously _not fun_. You had me worried—and as a general rule, I don't do that."

"Yeah, fine. We'll be more careful," Dan recited, trying not to roll his eyes. He hated it when Nellie started acting like a parent; it wasn't so much that he minded the attention, but she always made him feel painfully nostalgic for his own mom and dad, which was silly since he'd never known them.

Nellie nodded, one hand absently resting on Saladin's back. She'd stopped stroking the feline and was studying Dan with an odd look. For a while, she didn't say anything, leaving him with a distinctly uncomfortable and guilty feeling. Maybe they were taking too many risks and not giving enough thought to how they were treating their usually-super-cool guardian—mostly because it never occurred to him that Nellie worried at all.

"We're... sorry," he offered feeling more than awkward about it.

This produced a wry smile, "You're all right, Dan."

"I know."

"But I gotta ask this, because if you want to go back now we should," she continued sounding rather serious. "We're almost out of cash, the competition's getting douche-ier by the minute, and this seems as good a place as any to check out—"

"No," he said with marked determination, "Not a chance. We're not done yet."

With surprise, Dan watched as a slow grin spread across Nellie's face before he'd even finished speaking, "I was hoping you'd say that," she said with a spark of excitement in her voice, "Because I translated our clue for Pedro. Guess where it says we're supposed to go?"


End file.
